


A Grief Observed

by conlatio



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canonical temporary major character death, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 21:45:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14702985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/conlatio/pseuds/conlatio
Summary: "We don't want to escape them at the price of desertion or divorce. Killing the dead a second time. We were one flesh. Now that it has been cut in two, we don't want to pretend that it is whole and complete. We will be still married, still in love. Therefore we shall still ache." - C.S. Lewis.Steve visits Bucky.





	A Grief Observed

Steve steps onto the grass, a six-pack of Schaefer in his hand. He knows Bucky’s grave’s not here. He knows Arlington’s a lot closer to his apartment than Green-Wood. But Arlington’s got too many eyes on it, and anyway it doesn’t have Buck. Bucky’s with his family, Steve’s sure. None of ‘em would stand for it any other way. So Steve wends his way to a matched pair of headstones, and greets them: “Mr. Barnes,” with a respectful nod. “Winne,” with a small smile. “Is Bucky there?” He settles down on the grass, grabbing a bottle and popping the cap as he crosses long legs. Then he closes his eyes, tilts his head back toward the Brooklyn sunshine, and tells Bucky about his week around swallows of beer. 

He tells Bucky how he’s not so sure about his orders (“I know, I know, you’re shocked.”). He catches Bucky up on Peggy (“Who the hell authorized that woman to get 70 years’ practice calling everybody on their bullshit, she didn’t need ‘em and it ain’t fair and quit laughing.”). He tells Bucky how maybe he’ll make a friend (“even though I was kinda a dick to the guy. You’d’ve taken his side, told some stories ‘bout when I needed a new pair a’lungs.”).

Eventually the words run out, dry up. “So that’s me,” Steve announces. “Putting myself out there, making connections.” 

“It’s healthy,” he explains to the middle distance. “Everybody says that a lot now. Talks about what’s healthy, tells me to make healthy choices.” He takes a long breath, then a long drink. “Guess I’m still a little shit about taking my medicine.” 

The next words come out twisted, petulant, a little choked. “I don’t  _ want _ to, Buck. I don’t. I want--I want Jim and I want Monty and I want Pegs to be like I remember her and I want you--” The sentence and his voice break together and he pulls his knees up, covering his face, balling in on himself, clutching his calves. His shoulders shake, and he goes quiet except for hitches in his breath, like somebody’s digging fingers into either side of his windpipe.

After a few minutes, ragged, deliberately long, forcibly steady breaths take over. He lowers his knees, rubs his face with his palms, stares fixedly at the ground just short of Winnie’s headstone. Shakes his head. “Don’t think sitting on me’s gonna work this time, pal, no matter how threatening you are with a spoon.” Quieter: “I wouldn’t want it to work.” 

Steve finishes his beer slowly, then pours another out onto the grass. Stands, shoves his hands into his pockets. “Thanks for hanging onto the stupid. I’ll see you.”

**Author's Note:**

> All-fic all-the-time tumblr here: https://conlatio.tumblr.com/


End file.
